


all stories are about wolves

by twoheadedcalf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Animal Companions, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Getting Together, the rest of tm9 appear but its quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedcalf/pseuds/twoheadedcalf
Summary: The gnome had taken their purchases in normally and hadn’t become cross with them at Caleb’s attempt to haggle, even though he didn’t lower the prices. They’d paid and then, right at the end, he’d offered Jester a book for free.A brown, small, unassuming book that she took without preamble, happy to have something to read if it wasn’t too didactical. A brown book she’d opened as soon as they left the store, Beau looking at the pages over her shoulder, Caleb waiting for them a few steps ahead.There was a bright flash of light and then… And then… And then, here she was.Except that didn’t make any fucking sense!*day five of beaujester week: fairytales.





	all stories are about wolves

It’s hard to wake up at first. There’s softness and warmth around her, comfortable in a way that it never is when they are camping out. Jester opens her eyes slowly, only to be greeted with the bright blue sky and the sun glaring down at her.

The healthy green grass tickles her skin as she moves, soft instead of cutting, and the moss that was acting as a pillow for her head is wet, fresh. To one side, all there is a field of lilies as far as the eye can see, white and delicate and picturesque. To the other side, a dense forest, the leaves a deep dark green, the tree trunks just this side of too thick.

It doesn’t scare her. Jester’s been inside many forests by now, much more ominous than this one seems to be. She  _ is _ lost, though. And alone, which is worse. She also isn’t sure of how she got here which is, um. Not great.

Jester wreaks her brain for the events that might have led her to the place.  _ Weeeell _ , she woke up, brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, had breakfast with the the rest of the Nein, made sure to give Sprinkle something to eat, pranced about the town square - Noguvrot is a strange place, grey and stony but somehow still rambunctious in a way that Jester doesn’t like; it reminds her too much of Darktow.

It’s there that things get a little fuzzy. She remembers buying a prissy bracelet at the local trinket shop (she’s pretty sure that Nott used that window to steal something which is- normal, at least). Remembers pointing out the clothing store at the end of the street. And then they’d entered the bookshop. The  _ magical _ bookshop.

It’s rare to get all of The Mighty Nein in one place when the matter is pointlessly (or almost pointlessly) shopping. Fjord has no interest in any of it, Yasha is really only interested in weapons and Beau hates all the small talk inherent to it. Caduceus doesn’t seem to mind it but he doesn’t seem too interested either - the last time she saw him excited about a personal purchase was back in Zadash, with his floppy sun hat. So, yah, it’s hard.

But they’d managed it this time. Fjord accompanies them on shopping trips sometimes now though it seems to be mostly for Caleb’s sake. Yasha is in a good mood for humoring them. Beau is the one who’d blustered but then sighed and agreed when Jester asked her to join.

It was Beau, too, - and Caleb, of course (she can’t imagine what it must be like, having your arcane power hinged on how often you come across books. The Traveller is much better than all that) - who rushed to the store, all excited in a way Jester rarely sees her be about books, especially in public. It was… cute, although the monk wouldn’t like that and so, Jester would never say it.

The store was weird, to put it mildly. Weird in a cool way, as most things The Mighty Nein come across are. Bigger inside than how it looked from outside, like her own haversack or Fjord’s bag of holding, with a high ceiling and dark purple walls. The shelves were so tall that she’d probably need a ladder to get to the very last one, and made of dark wood. The whole place smelled like old paper and lavender. It all looked very magical.

It also looked like the perfect place to manifest The Traveller’s will and be a little chaotic, make a bit of a mess. Things were too neat, too organized - shaking things up a bit would make the place even more charming, give it a little more flare. And by the end of that thought, she’s already set on it.

It wasn’t even that hard. The store was big and it seemed like the only employee inside was the middle-aged gnome (however much that amounted to in actual years) at the front desk who didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them. She changed the books’ placements on the shelves, changed a few titles, graffitied the furniture and even made a high tower with the books. The gnome was none the wiser.

Beau let out a wry chuckle when she saw the tusktooth drawing on the dark wood, which made Jester feel warm inside. She could feel The Traveller’s presence, see a bit of green on the corner of her eye, hear his deep slight laugh, which made her feel even warmer. Mission accomplished.

Beau and Caleb were the only ones actually buying any books, though she and Fjord were joining them at the cashier. Fjord was carrying two books for the wizard, the heavier tomes, like the show off he was (or at least, tried to be - everyone knows that Fjord is pretty weak). Unfortunately, Beau was only carrying one book and it’d be weird if Jester took it from her. Right?

The gnome had taken their purchases in normally and hadn’t become cross with them at Caleb’s attempt to haggle even though he didn’t lower the prices. They’d paid and then, right at the end, he’d offered Jester a book for free.

A brown, small, unassuming book that she took without preamble, happy to have something to read if it wasn’t too didactical. A brown book she’d opened as soon as they left the store, Beau looking at the pages over her shoulder, Caleb waiting for them a few steps ahead.

There was a bright flash of light and then… And then… And then, here she was.

Except that didn’t make any fucking sense!

Jester huffs and feels the familiar clamminess of panic taking over her: a weird-bad fluttery feeling in her sternum, and shaky hands. She doesn’t like being alone like this, in these expansive and unknown fields, pretty as they are. Her eyes water and Jester does her best not to spill any tears; she’s gotten too used to The Mighty Nein’s company.

A blur of blue catches the corner of her eye and something soft brushes against her forehead.

The ribbon Beau gifted to her almost a month ago. It’s shorter and made of a softer material than the one the monk has tied to her staff but it’s still similar enough, the same shade of deep blue that she associates with Beau. Beau presented it to Jester with no explanation and only grumbled at her copious thanks, her cheeks a warmer shade of brown.

Right. The ribbon is a good reminder that Beau was right beside Jester when the flash of light took over vision and might be here somewhere. Hopefully, she’s around… No, none of that! Beau  _ will _ be around and if she’s not, then, well. Jester can handle herself. Right?

The cleric gets up and dusts off her clothes even though, strangely, they aren’t dirty at all. Her haversack is not weighing her shoulders down, because it isn’t there, and her sickle is also gone from her waist which is not good news. She hesitates. Then stumbles in the direction of the lily fields.

She only manages to take two steps forward before a blur takes over her vision, the sound of flapping wings something familiar. She raises her arms to scare off what must be some very annoying birds.

Jester opens her eyes only to be confronted with three very tiny birds that are still very close to her face. They remind her of Frumpkin’s tiny owl form, if only a little bit less frazzled. Maybe…

“Frumpkin?”

The birds peep back at her, not an ounce of recognition in their giant owl eyes. Ugh, whatever.

“Are you guys going to help me?”

The birds peep again in response, squeakish and young-sounding. It reminds her of the little thrills Kiri would make at them when she wasn’t mimicking anyone.

One of the owls, the fluffier one, picks up the ribbon with his beak and doesn’t let it go. “Blue?” She asks. The bird pulls harder at the ribbon in response. She will take that as a ‘no’. “...Beau?” The bird lets go and peeps again, a happy sound, and settles on her head while the other two fly past her, quick and light. The bird pecks at her head when she remains stationary. “You’re gonna help me find Beau?” A happy little thrill in response. She tries not to let relief take over her body.

So Jester turns her back to the flower fields and looks at the forest instead, sees the dark-stripped tiny owls waiting for her at the entrance, like lanterns in the dark, guiding her path.

Well. Here goes nothing.

*

The path that takes her further inside the forest isn’t properly delimited, definitely not man-made, what with the way she has to dodge a tree that stands in her way every couple of minutes, and the cold wind that rustles the trees’ leaves makes her shiver.

Still, Jester has to admit it’s a pretty place. Everything is shaded in a rich green that’s similar to the color of her cloak, lush with life. The ground beneath her feet is a muddy brown, squelchy, wet earth. The leaves rustle, bright green instead of yellow, not dry at all. Like never-ending spring. The kind of place Caduceus would enjoy, probably. Or even Fjord, maybe.

Her birds are steady in their guidance, never faltering, patient even with her slower pace. Funnily enough, she doesn’t feel tired either, despite the fact she’s probably been walking for a while. Nothing hurts, she doesn’t feel hungry or thirsty, almost as if she’s been wading through a dream. Maybe she is. Her dreams don’t normally drag on and on like this though.

Donut, as Jester has deigned to calling the fluffy bird making a nest on her head, is fine enough company, and responsive too, even though he can’t actually speak. She’s got a few scratches on her head, though, from the times when he tried to rein her in and keep her attention on the path.

The forest gets denser the further in they go which she’s pretty sure is normal if only a little bit unsettling. She’s not that used to forests, being born in Nicodranas as she was. The tree bark gets steadily darker, the tree trunks thicker, and the canopy effectively begins to block out the sun. It’s not that bad - it’d be fine, actually, if she wasn’t pretty much alone. The owls are a comfort; she decides to name the other two Honey and Cinnamon at that moment.

Jester’s pretty confident in her ability to keep her wariness in check when suddenly, Donut pecks her forehead harder than he ever has before in a way that makes her startle; surely, she must be bleeding. And then she sees it.

A giant grey wolf, right in the middle of the cleared path, sleeping with her paws crossed over each other, her giant head resting over them. She snarls in sleep and Jester can see her sharp teeth gleaming even from this distance.

Oof! The tiefling rushes away to the side, and throws herself against one of the closest trees, hoping it’ll be enough to hide her frame, the tree trunk digging against her back with every shallow breath she takes. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Okay.

She leans around the tree again, over the left side. There’s a path over there but it peters out in the opposite direction she’s been traveling all day. She leans around the right side and sees Honey and Cinnamon there, hovering just past the wolf. Great. Awesome.

There’s no shortcut around the animal - to her right there are only more trees and the poisonous bushes she managed to avoid earlier. Even if they weren’t poisonous, the rustle of them would probably alert the wolf. Ughhh, okay. She can do this. She’s done it before, right? She’s not the best at it, though. Nott is so good at blending with the shadows and going unheard when she wants to. Beau is so quick on her feet, lighter than a breeze. But Beau and Nott aren’t fucking here, so.

Jester approaches the wolf from the right side, trying to maintain a minimum distance between the two of them while also getting closer and closer. She takes care to keep her steps light, no crunching of leaves, not wet squelching sounds, no getting her feet stuck in the mud. The forest moves on as if there’s nothing important happening: the wood continues to creak, the wind continues to blow, and the other birds, further away from here, continue to sing. The knowledge that the world moves on without her does nothing to settle Jester’s heart.

If the wolf’s body wasn’t absolutely massive, then she’d already be past it, well on her way to wherever the owls are guiding her, hopefully where Beau will be, wrapped up in a bow like a present for her after walking for so long. As it is, she’s only managed to get past the creature’s back paws and is just getting past the tip of the tail when suddenly, the wolf snuffles and stretches her body, pounding her paws on Jester’s back and making her sprawl over the furry, soft tail. Jester stays stock still, hoping that maybe things aren’t so bad and the animal is still sleeping. No such luck.

The tail snaps, and sends her careening away in the air, only to then roll around in the dirt before finally coming to a stop. She manages a glance back and sees the thing getting up, seeming even more massive, before her tail straightens, a clear sign of danger. It’s at that moment that Jester realizes she has no experience handling angry animals; she’s handled a scared Nugget or a rowdy Yarnball in the past, sure, but never angry.

Jester would rather not test her animal handling abilities right now, so. She takes off running and doesn’t look back.

Jester has learned, in her travels with The Mighty Nein, that some animals decide their preys aren’t worth the effort of hunting - aren’t tasty enough, aren’t big enough, maybe. Any hope of the wolf not taking an interest in her tiny blue form is squashed when she hears a rumbling growl, and then, right after, the unmistakable sound of paws hitting the ground in a steady run. Jester resolutely does not look back; knowing how close she is will only make it worse, will only serve to make Jester more scared, she knows this. At least, her own quick-thinking bought her a few seconds of advantage.

There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide; the trees are a steady presence on either side of her, no other pathway, no hut to hide in. Honey and Cinnamon fly only a few feet ahead of her, cutting an elegant but desperate figure. She still feels the weight of Donut settled on her head. It’s reassuring to know that they haven’t abandoned her, even though they probably could (even though they probably  _ should _ ). Gods, she can’t die here, not right now, not in this fake, pretend place.

If only she weren’t so useless. If only she could do more than support others. If only her magic was reliable; despite everything, despite how strong her connection to The Traveller is, despite how much He cares about her, it still can be taken away - hadn’t the Iron Shepherds proven that? If only she had something other than her magic. Sometimes brute force is the only thing that will do, she knows; she has learned that from looking at Yasha, from looking at Beau. If only she had a weapon, then she’d be able to  _ do _ something, she’d be able to prove her worth.

There’s a bright flash of green that makes her squint and almost close her eyes, the same type of blinding light that brought her here in the first place. There’s barely any time to be unsettled, though, when she sees what the light caused this time. A few paces away, set in stone, is a longsword, shining golden just like Molly’s old scimitar. Jester knows, solely by instinct, what she has to do. She picks up the pace, matches up with Honey and Cinnamon. She only needs to get there on time. That’s all she needs. Her body will know what to do from there. She’s seen Yasha and Fjord attack before and she’s more than strong enough - she can do this.

Jester doesn’t hesitate to pull at the sword when she gets up to the stone, now facing the wolf heading her way - she knows better than to turn her back on the enemy, she’s vulnerable enough as is. There’s only problem: the sword doesn’t come off. She gets a better grip at it and pulls again and it still doesn’t come off. Oh gods. Maybe she really does have sweaty hands like Nott keeps saying and they’re gonna fucking kill her! She frantically rubs her hands on her dress, hoping that will be enough to dry them off, grips the sword’s handle and pulls again. It’s no use. The thing is not budging. It’s all she needs and it still won’t cooperate, this fucking thing.

She thinks of Yasha raging to defend them, think of Caleb polymorphing himself to protect them, thinks about Nott taking a hit from a dragon to protect her, thinks of Beau always at the front lines to protect them even though that’s really not her job - sword or no sword, Jester plans on standing her ground; she will not die a fucking coward.

She pulls one last time and the thing comes off, smooth like there was never any problem, like the stone was serving only as its sheath. Fuck that shit, honestly. The wolf is bounding towards her, unstoppable and close; Jester rights her stance, as best as she can: makes sure her feet are spread apart, that she’s got a good, double-handed grip on the sword, and that she will be able to get at least one good hit in.

She does: a good slice on the wolf’s throat, that sinks in at least a few inches, enough to make it hurt, enough to make it count. It starts bleeding immediately, running down her side and staining her grey pelt red. The animal also gets a good hit, sinks down her teeth on Jester’s shoulders and pulls away in nasty punctures that leaves her whole shoulder raw and hurting. Jester pulls back the sword and the wolf gets on her hind legs again, ready to pounce on her target. Jester manages a scrape on her shoulder, not deep but long, the kind of thing that annoys anyone, even animals. The wolf scratches her chest with her claws, manages to rip her dress and stain it blood-red. The creature will probably go for her legs next.

The way she pulls back gives Jester an opening, though, to sink the sword into her neck and be done with it. Jester hesitates, like an idiot, which will probably get her killed someday; she’s pretty sure she’s never killed an animal before, not even in self-defense, and she isn’t sure if she wants to start today, not with this pretty, well-groomed wolf who was doing nothing but sleeping the day away. The hesitation serves her well enough - the wolf doesn’t go for ankles. In fact, it doesn’t attack her at all.

She kneels down at Jester’s feet, snout to the ground, paws by her head - it’s similar to a position Jester’s seen Nugget hold before, if only more graceful and more intentional, as if there’s some meaning behind it. Jester has no idea what that meaning is but it leaves her content all the same. She sets the sword into the ground, a hair’s breadth away from the wolf’s head; she doesn’t flinch, serene, and maintains the submissive position.

Jester is not in the habit of beast handling - none of The Mighty Nein really are: even Caduceus, for all his big talk about communing with nature, doesn’t know much (or anything at all, really) about animals. Beau lost her owl in less than three days, for gods’ sake. Still, Jester would like to think she understands at least the basic dynamics that rule animal society.

Animals do not take to submission lightly. Not wild animals, anyway. Certainly not beasts. Yarnball is her friend and she doubts they’d eat her at this point in the relationship but they’d never bow their head to her, wild as they are. So Jester knows there’s some significance to this giant mama wolf bending the knee. But she’s bleeding and tired and hurting so she doesn’t really care for it right now.

She drops to her knees, overbalances, and falls on her ass. The wolf holds the position, tracking her movements with dark eyes. Jester hesitates before slowly bringing her hand, slightly dirty, up to the wolf’s head.

They are almost at the same eye level now. Jester’s hand hovers by the wolf’s head, asking for permission. After a moment, two moments, she bumps her snout against Jester’s hand, then her whole head, the same way Nugget does when he’s asking for pets. Jester gladly gives her all the pets she wants.

The wolf’s fur is soft and thick, healthy. Jester’s whole hand gets swallowed by it once she moves on from petting the animal’s head to petting the spine. Soon enough, the wolf is laying on her, pinning her to the ground, eyes closed as she receives Jester’s soft affections. It’s nice.

Eventually, she rubs against the cut on the wolf’s throat on accident. She whimpers but doesn’t get cross with Jester which is good, she thinks. Jester directs her hands away from the injury and resumes the petting.

“I’m sorry. I’d heal you if I could. If it helps, you bit me real fucking hard and it hurts like a motherfucker.” Jester scratches behind the wolf’s ear. The ear flops a little. Hehe. Cute. “You’re a very strong girl.”

The wolf doesn’t respond, just snuffs a warm breath against her neck.

“Do you have a name? I’m gonna give you a name. I- Uuuuh, um- Oh! Nutmeg! That’s cute, right? Sound like an old lady’s nickname. Do you like it?”

The wolf licks her cheek. She’ll be taking that as a yes.

“Okay, Nutmeg.”

*

They stay like that for some time. It’s nice. After a while, Jester doesn’t know how long (it’s hard to tell when the light filtering in through the canopy remains the same), Donut starts pecking her head and Honey and Cinnamon fly down from whatever branches they were resting on to peep at her.

Right. She has important things to do. Jester starts wiggling to escape the wolf’s hold. Nutmeg does not cooperate at all but Jester is strong and after a few strenuous moments of squirming, the tiefling manages to flop to one side, away from Nutmeg.

The blood flowing down from the punctures on her shoulder has slowed down to a steady trickle and her injuries only feel numb now, instead of raw, which is- okay, she guesses. There’s still an occasional twinge of pain but it’s fine.

Jester slowly gets up and dusts off her clothes, even though the only thing dirtying them up is her own blood. Nutmeg makes a whiny sound and nudges the golden sword towards the cleric.

She picks it up. “Oh, right. I might need it again.” Jester shuffles her feet. Nutmeg does the same with her paws. “I guess this is goodbye then.” She bestows a light kiss on the wolf’s head.

A pause.

“You know, you could just come with us!” Nutmeg lazily flops back down to the ground by way of response. “Ugh, fine. Bye, Nutmeg.” Jester walks away.

She’s been walking in comfortable silence for ten minutes at the very most when she finally hears the telltale sound of big paws hitting the ground in a light jog and, soon after, Nutmeg is nudging herself against her side. Jester smiles.

They walk for a while more and don’t tire at all - her feet don’t hurt like they normally would and her shoulders don’t slump. The only thing that bothers her is when she occasionally pulls her shoulder the wrong way. Nothing she hasn’t gone through before. She’s satisfied.

Jester eventually lets Nutmeg bully her into mounting on her back and from then on, things move a lot quicker. Nutmeg isn’t running, by any means, but she maintains a quicker pace by sheer size alone. Besides, the up and down motion is really cool and reminds her of Yarnball - she misses them.

She feels lighter somehow, after the fight - even though she’s carrying a pretty big sword and is hurt - like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Her mind is clean with the knowledge of the things she could do if she needed to, if she  _ wanted _ to.

Jester becomes so settled and so distracted with the lightness in her heart that she startles and almost falls off when Nutmeg goes down a hill. It’s the first change in the landscape they’ve come across. Hopefully, that’s good news.

As they keep moving, steady, steady down this almost steep hill, the forest starts petering out, going from lush, thick trees to cute, baby trees until, suddenly, they are out of the woods and resting on a stretch of flat land.

On the distance, not far away at all, she sees a stone tower. Her heart beats faster, filled with anticipation and hope of finally seeing Beau. Well, maybe seeing Beau. Hopefully. If the birds haven’t been tricking her this whole time.

There’s only one problem: a sea of roses and thorns stands between her and the tower. “Fuuuuuck!” She’s so done with this. “Fucking shit! Balls! Argh!”

She climbs down from Nutmeg’s back in a rush, almost falls down, and stumbles towards the roses. The bushes must be eight feet tall, only slightly bigger than Nutmeg. Jester doesn’t hesitate to start hacking at it with the sword.

When she finally takes a break and looks back over her shoulder, she’s made a decent dent in it. Nutmeg can even fit behind her, if she just hunches down a little. That simply encourages Jester more.

She does her best to keep a straight line and she must be doing a damn good job at it because at no moment do Honey and Cinnamon peep at her to course-correct. Maybe they’re just scared of her ferocity but this is the way to get the job done, so.

She doesn’t stop the hacking motions when she reaches the other side, too determined and taken over by the momentum of it. But her arms finally tire and the sword clatters to the ground.

Jester rests.

The circle that surrounds the tower is filled with greenery, bell-shaped flowers littering the whole place. It reminds her of the lily fields outside of the forest, if only a little tamer. The flower’s blue color isn’t the same blue as Beau’s blue robes but it reminds her of the monk anyway. She starts plucking flowers and putting them away in her pockets.

She keeps an uneven path, going from the outer edge of the circle towards the base of the tower until she bumps into it. Nutmeg sniffs her neck - she’s kept her company through the flower plucking, might have even eaten a few, if the flower stems on her snout are anything to go by.

She doesn’t see Honey and Cinnamon anywhere close which is - okay, worrying. They haven’t been separated ever since they first attacked her face but Jester tries not to panic.

Jester looks around her, strains her ears so she can listen for any familiar owl sounds, and ignores Donut annoyingly pecking at her head - it’s not like he’s helping her any. After a while, she hears them: the squeaky peeps and long owl coos. She follows the sound until she’s on the opposite side of the tower.

She looks up, up, and up and finally sees them, hovering by a lonely window sixty feet up, at the top of the tower, and occasionally pecking at it. When they see her, their peeps get more frantic and their wings flap a little harder.

Oh gods. Is this it? This must be it. Fuck, okay.

“Beau!” No response. “Beauregard!” Nothing. “Beauuuuuuuuuuuuuregaaaaard!” She waits a second. Nothing at all. “BEAUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!”

There’s a beat and then-

“JESTER?”

“BEAU!”

And then, louder, like she’s closer now:

“JESTER!”

“BEAU!”

“OH, THANK FUCK!”

Jester laughs, relieved and delighted. “I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE!”

“SO AM I! NOW COME GET ME.”

A pause. “WHAT?”

“COME. GET. ME!”

“WHAT?!”

“THE WINDOW IS LOCKED AND I HAVE NO WAY OF UNLOCKING IT.”

“Oh.” A pause. She pats herself, checking for her thieves’ tools. Predictably, she doesn’t have them. The pins that keep her hair in place are all still there though. It’ll have to do. “OKAY.” A beat. “HOW?”

“UHHHH… I THINK YOU CAN CLIMB UP?” And now that Beau has pointed out, Jester sees them, the little handholds and footholds in the stone. Seems a bit precarious.

“DON’T KNOW ABOUT THAT, BEAU.”

Beau doesn’t hesitate: “I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT, JES!”

Jester’s stomach flips and she makes a noise in the back of her throat that she hopes Beau isn’t able to hear all the way up in the tower. “OKAY!”

Jester squares her shoulders and starts climbing up.

The silence as she climbs feels tense, like, at any moment, something could go horribly wrong. She tries to keep her effort-fueled grunts and gasps as quiet as possible. She tries not to remember her time climbing back in Xhorhas, tries not to picture herself free-falling here the same way she did that day in the Barbed Fields - it’s not the same at all: even though she had her magic that day, she was falling from a much greater height. And Beau was with her too. That was a plus.

It will be fine, probably. Hopefully. She just can’t shake away the feeling that nothing can go wrong here, or she’ll be done for, she can’t die here, in this fake place, she can’t, not here, just  _ not _ here-

Jester reaches the window and is glad for the handhold there. She’ll have to do this one-handed which, fuck, will be hard. At least the lock doesn’t look too intricate.

The birds keep her company which is nice, and she can see Nutmeg in her peripheral vision. She can’t tell if the presence she feels behind the window is just her imagination. She tries not to dwell on it.

Jester’s not as good at this as Nott but she’s pretty decent at it and, after a while, the lock opens and the window folds in and Beau is there to catch her when she swings in.

They fall in a heap on the ground as Honey and Cinnamon fly in.

Beau’s body makes for a very bony pillow but Jester relishes in it all the same, pulling away only to rearrange herself and bury her face in the crook of Beau’s neck. She smells like clean sweat and fresh mint. Beau pats her head awkwardly. Jester tightens her arms around Beau’s waist and accidentally catches on her hair. Beau gasps and half-pulls away. And that’s when Jester realizes.

She’s seen Beau’s hair down before, on a few occasions, normally when they are bedding down in an inn for the night: it’s thick and well-taken care of, longer than Jester’s, reaching her mid-back in light waves. Jester would imagine it’s soft but she’s never had the opportunity to verify it.

Beau’s hair is down now and it reaches past her mid-back, past her butt, past her ankles, wrapping around the whole room in a river of brown hair.

Jester gasps. “Beau! What the fuck?!”

Beau sighs. “Dude, you don’t even know. I had to kill a chick.”

“Oh, nice! Where’s her body?”

“Not here! That’d stink.”

“I fought a wolf.” Jester blurts out, unsure if she’s trying to top Beau’s achievements or trying to impress her. She decides against over-analyzing it.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Beau sits up, now at eye-level with Jester. Her face looks soft and squishy, different than the scowl she normally sports. “Okay, so I woke up here out of nowhere, right? And there was nothing to do and no one around so, obviously, I decided to investigate.”

“Obviously.”

“The only interesting thing was this book, like, it was basically a fairytale book which, ugh, whatever.” Jester tries and fails to not feel defensive about fairytales. “Didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

“But…?”

“But then! Things from the book started happening to me! Like this fucking hair.” She says, and pulls at her own hair. “And then I had to kill my step-mom or whatever.”

“Oh… Was it your real mom?”

“No. That’d be fucked up, wouldn’t it? It was just some random woman.”

“So you saw everything I did. The birds, the wolf…”

“The sword in the stone, yeah. That was really cool. You’re basically a knight now, Jes.”

She smiles. “And you’re my princess?”

Beau, uncharacteristically, flushes, her cheeks tinting in a warmer shade of brown, and says in a soft voice, “I guess.”

“Not many princesses kill their moms.”

“Well, I’m no average princess, okay?”

Jester laughs. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence where Beau stares down at her hands in her lap and Jester stares at Beau. Then, Jester plucks Donut from her head and sets him down on Beau’s head. She freezes.

“That’s Donut. He’s one of the birds.” Donut pecks Beau’s head - she doesn’t seem bothered by it. “And that’s Cinnamon and that’s Honey.” She says, pointing to the owls playing with Beau’s long hair. “Do you want to meet the wolf too?”

“Does the wolf have a pastry-related name, too?”

“Well, obviously! Who do you think I am?”

The climb down is easier in Beau’s company, her presence calming Jester down and dipping her in soft reassurance. And maybe the fact that this is now the second time she’s tracking this path helps too. Whatever.

Nutmeg licks the side of Jester’s face when she approaches. Doesn’t snarl at Beau when she gets closer either which is good, Jester thinks.

“Beau, this is Nutmeg. Nutmeg, this is Beau.”

“Nutmeg? Really?”

“You can call her Meg if you want, I don’t care.”

Beau extends her hand out, an arm’s distance away from the animal, like she’s preparing to snatch the limb back if anything goes wrong. Nutmeg carefully sniffs Beau’s hand and then licks it too, and that’s as good of a permission as any. Beau smirks and starts scratching Nutmeg’s chin. “Good girl, Meg. Good girl. Good wolf.” The wolf pants, delighted. Cute.

“Do you want to see my sword?”

“Do I want to see-! Yes! I really do! Where is it?”

It doesn’t take Jester too long to locate the sword lying in the grass, though having to search for it and showcasing her carelessness with it is a bit embarrassing. Beau doesn’t seem to notice, though, too fascinated with the weapon - as she always seems to be with anything that’s dangerous - to admonish Jester; she watches the way the gold metal glints in the sunlight, and smooths her finger through the minute carvings on the blade.

After inspecting it, she hands the sword back to Jester. She makes a few hand motions when Jester does nothing with it.

“What?”

“I wanna see you fight with a cool sword! C’mon!”

Jester flushes and hopes her cheeks don’t tint the obvious purple color they normally do when she’s embarrassed. “I- Okay.”

She does a few motions, wide arcs that make Beau say ‘nice’ in a low voice. That gets her excited enough to make a few attacks, flinging the sword forward, incisive, and arching it away and around, the kind of motion that’d be enough to bring down an enemy with one hit. That makes Beau hoop which, okay, nice. 

After a few more movements, Jester turns, settles the sword a hair’s breadth from Beau’s neck. Beau doesn’t flinch but she doesn’t move either. She smirks instead. Surprisingly, that doesn’t annoy Jester - it doesn’t feel patronizing like she thought it would. She smirks back at the monk.

“What, you’re gonna attack me?”

“I could right now.”

Beau doesn’t dismiss it. “Yeah. But you won’t.”

Jester holds the position for a moment longer, just for the hell of it. Then she puts the sword down. “You’re right, I won’t.”

They sit down on the grass, side by side, the sword set on Jester’s knees and still reaching Beau’s lap anyway. Jester rests her head on the monk’s bony shoulder, not caring about the purple bruise that will probably form on her temple. Beau squirms, then rests her own head on Jester’s, undeterred by the tiefling’s horns.

“Soooooo… Did your book say how we get out of here?”

She feels Beau’s body flinch, like she wants to pull away but is barely stopping herself from doing so. Jester frowns. Beau manages to stammer out a few words, “I...Um, you know…. The book isn’t necessarily right about everything…”

Jester pulls her head away, stares at Beau’s profile when she doesn’t look back at her. “But it was right up until now, right?”

Beau’s expression sours and her mouth twists down. “Right.”

“So, what is it?”

Beau makes a strange noise in the back of her throat. “You know how pretty much all fairy tales end with ‘and they lived happily ever after’ or whatever?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you know, I-...” Beau’s shoulders rise a little bit more. “The story ends in a kiss, so. I guess that’s it.”

“Oh.”

“But we don’t have to do it, of course, I’m sure there’s another away, fairy tales are bullshit anyway-”

Beau’s rambling fades into the background as Jester stares at her face, her cute round ears getting steadily pinker and her brown face getting flusher, like she just came back from the beach, healthy. She can practically feel the heat radiating from Beau’s body and it makes her warm too, in a stifling but pleasant way. Even with her hair like this, Beau’s undercut isn’t gone; it’s there, short-cropped and well-maintained. Jester imagines it’d feel good to brush her fingers through it. It’d probably feel good to have her fingers anywhere on Beau’s body.

“I don’t mind.” Jester says, interrupting.

“You’re only saying that because-”

“I’m not. I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time, Beau. This is a good excuse.”

Beau’s face does a funny thing at that, something that Jester can’t really decipher, not from her side view anyway, but that’s still familiar. “Yeah?” She says, sounding a little breathless already.

“Yeah.” Jester says, sounding a little breathless herself. She puts one hand on Beau’s cheek and the monk finally turns her face towards her, a soft, wobbly smile playing on her lips. Jester spreads her fingers a little, her thumb settling on Beau’s jaw, firm. “I’m gonna kiss you right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

She straightens up, gets closer and closer to Beau’s face, so close that she almost goes cross-eyed looking at her brown-eyes and then, when she can’t really get any closer, Jester closes her eyes and kisses Beau.

There are no sparks, no fireworks. It’s perfect anyway. Beau’s lips are chapped whereas Jester’s are still soft but the contrast feels pleasant instead of weird. It starts off as a light peck, something chaste and sweet, not something that’d be necessarily shared between lovers but then Beau settles a hand on her neck, guides her through opening her mouth, and then it’s wet and pleasant and she could honestly spend the rest of her life doing this. It calms her down, makes her feel safe - there isn’t any other place she’d like to be, there isn’t anything else she’d rather do, than kiss Beau until her lips hurt, until her whole body hurts.

There’s a flash of white light behind her eyes but she doesn't stop. She doesn’t care about anything else right now.

That is, until a cacophony of sound assaults her ears and she’s forced to pull away. She opens her eyes and sees Beau, hair still down but barely reaching her mid-back, as it usually does. She looks down and sees her dress is still ripped and the teeth punctures on her shoulder are still there, though they stopped bleeding long ago. They are back in the bookstore, The Mighty Nein only a few feet away from them.

Caleb is the first one to move, surprisingly. He kneels besides Beau, pats her head, and checks for injuries until she’s slapping his hands away, and going ‘dude, I’m fine, come on, chill out-’. Nott barrels towards Jester and encircles her arms around the tiefling’s neck in a hug.

It’s not too hard to understand the situation: the shopkeeper wanted to teach them a lesson about messing with other people’s belongings and thought the best way to do that was give them a magical book and make them go through a fairytale. It’s nothing too evil, considering everything they’ve already been through.

They still leave him unconscious on the back of the store for all his troubles, though, which is very much like The Mighty Nein.

Beau and Jester walk out of the bookshop arm in arm, with Caduceus, Yasha and Nott in front of them and Fjord and Caleb bringing up the rear, like a human shield between the two of them and the rest of the world. Jester appreciates it.

“Oh! Beau!”

“Yeah?”

She pats herself, checks her pockets to see if they’re still there. They are - she pulls out some of the blue bell flowers she plucked from the field around the tower, the least pressed ones, and presents them to Beau. “I picked these for you.”

Beau’s mouth twists down then up in a half-smile. “Thank you.”

Jester motions towards Beau’s head. “May I?”

Beau nods and it only takes Jester a second to tuck the flower behind Beau’s ear. They kind of match her robes, regardless of the shade difference. “You look really good, Beau.”

Beau’s face does a funny thing at that. “Thanks, Jes.”

Jester simply beams at her and then rests her head on Beau’s shoulder, her horn digging into the meat of the monk’s arm, not that Beau seems to mind it at all. There’s happiness in this, that they haven’t really felt in a long time. It’s nice.

**Author's Note:**

> hey folks!! hope you enjoyed reading this even though jester spends 70% of the story away from beau; it was a lot of work and i'm really proud of it!! ANYWAY. find me @female-pain on tumblr or @bicalebwidogast on twitter.


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